Weakening, Falling
by Uozumi
Summary: The next time Dean encounters Castiel, it’s in a dream that ends in an omen. SPOILERS 5x18


**Fandom** _Supernatural_  
**Character(s)/Pairing(s)** Castiel, Dean; pre-slash Cas/Dean  
**Genre** Angst/ Drama/Dream/Pre-slash  
**Rating** PG-13  
**Word Count** 723  
**Disclaimer** Supernatural c. Kripke, WB, CW  
**Summary** The next time Dean encounters Castiel, it's in a dream that ends in an omen.  
**Warning(s)** mild language, spoilers for season five episode eighteen  
**Notes** This fic kind of took on a life of its own. I blame Castiel entirely.

_**Weakening, Falling**_

They stood separated on either side of a covered bridge at sunset in some place with rolling hills and trees full of color and vitality. Even if it was a dream, nature had yet to notice there was an apocalypse hanging around or maybe it could care less. If Dean looked to his left through the archway and down the corridor, he could see the wind try to commune with Castiel, tugging and caressing the angel's vessel. The angel never looked at him, never registered his presence. Dean rested his hands on the woodwork of the bridge leading up to the enclosure and then looked away and out at the valley below. His eyes meandered along the river and up to the streets carved into the ridges. When he looked back through the covered bridge, he expected Castiel to have left but the angel still stood there. However, Castiel was leaning heavily on the wooden railing on the other side of the bridge, his shoulders hunched and head bent. Castiel's fingers were tangled in his dark hair.

"Fuck this," Dean commented to himself and took a step forward. When he entered the covered part of the bridge, he felt a prickling warmth all over and heard a faint buzz, but once he was firmly inside the structure the noise and heat disappeared. His footfalls were silent and the scent of weathered oak seemed overpowering, yet Dean persisted. It took three times as long to walk than Dean anticipated. The middle of the enclosure was a stationary hamster wheel that stretched out until it finally allowed him to step over the barrier between the enclosure and the open area of the bridge. Dean emitted a grunt of discomfort as again a fire lit across his body and a whine threatened to deafen his ears. However, once both feet were firmly on the packed dirt on the other side of the threshold, all discomfort ceased.

"Cas – "

The angel's back tensed and bristled. He did not remove his hands from his hair or untuck his head. "Fuck off."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "You're the one invading my dream here."

Castiel's fingers uncurled and his hands lowered. He slowly glanced back at Dean. "This is my dream."

"Since when do you sleep?" Dean walked over to stand to Castiel's left. He watched the angel consider his question.

"Since Easter." Castiel continued to lean on the railing. "I'll wake up in five or ten minutes. My record so far is seventeen minutes." He studied Dean's face and then rolled his eyes. "Don't give me that look. Since when do you even care?" His eyes averted down to the river.

Dean took a deep breath. "I didn't get possessed."

"This time." Castiel took a deep breath and pulled himself from the railing. He stood at his full height and looked at Dean who was still leaning against the railing. "You've been weakening since we encountered Famine. Do you think I didn't hear you prostrate yourself to the sky?"

"Dammit, Cas," Dean stopped leaning on the railing and stood nose to nose with the angel, "what was I supposed to do?"

"Do less than I have." Castiel licked his dry lips and his eyes did not waiver from Dean's gaze. "Give less than Jimmy gave." Castiel's lips twitched downwards into a frown.

Dean studied the angel. It was the first time he had seen or heard such a reaction regarding Castiel's vessel. Guilt and possibly regret threatened in those blue eyes that normally seemed confused, determined, or curious at most times.

Castiel took a step back, placing a much more platonic distance between them. "I will wake soon."

"Where?"

"Somewhere."

"Cas, I – "

Castiel held up a hand and shook his head. "I'll come back, but not yet." He was starting to fade in and out, trying to retain the dream as much as he could. "Dean, if you say yes…I'm not going to be there for it." Then Castiel was gone, the sound of flying wings accompanying his exit from the dream.

Dean watched the spot and then turned his head upward when something moved. Reaching out, Dean caught three feathers in his outstretched hand. They were dark like shadows and disappeared when they touched his palms, but he felt them for a split second.

The feathers were very real.

**The End**


End file.
